
Book .HT TT - 



O Y\ 






TRANSLATIONS 



FROM 



THE GERMAN, DANISH, &c. 



TO WHICH IS ADDED 



MISCELLANEOUS POETRY. 



Giace, tra l'alto fiume e la palude, 
Picciol sentier nell' arenosa riva. 

Ariosto. 15. 49. 



HonHon : 



PRINTED FOR T. REYNOLDS, OXFORD-STREET J 
BY I. GOLD, SHOE LANE. 



1804. 




ADVERTISEMENT. 



The ballad of Lenardo and Blandina is translated 
from the German of Burger, who is well known in this 
country, as author of Leonora. The tale is similar to 
that of Guiscard and Sigismunda in Dryden, but the 
style and character of this ballad is very different from 
that of the English fable ; and it is perhaps singular, 
that Burger, who copied much from our language, 
should not in this instance have borrowed from Dry- 
den's excellent poem. The story is found in Boccaccio. 
The first part of the ballad is heavy, and very inferior 
to the rest; and on that account I have not printed the 
first 128 lines, which would have been tedious. They 
contain little poetical beauty, and the story may be 
comprised in a few words. — Blandina, a beautiful 
Princess of Burgundy, having rejected many suitors of 
high rank and character, becomes enamored of her 
page Lenardo. She is even less scrupulous, than Sigis- 
munda ; and takes the earliest opportunity of declar- 
*a2 



ing to him the fondness, which her looks had already 
betrayed, by means of a letter artfully concealed within 
an apple, in which she desires him to meet her at mid- 
night under the tree, whence it was culled. The page, 
who appears throughout to have been a great coward, 
hesitates at first; but, when midnight sounds the sum- 
mons of love, he springs from his couch, and repairs 
quickly to the tree, whence he is conducted without 
further ceremony by the Princess to a vaulted chamber 
in an ancient ruin, which she had chosen for her 
summer bower. 

'Tis midnight, and sleep overshadows the sight. 
But the eye of the traitor sleeps not in the night. 70 
Lenardo ! Lenardo ! beware of thy way, 
Ere yet the cock hails the first dawning of day ! 
A Spanish Prince, who had been an unsuccessful suifc- 
or to Blandina, but still lingered at the court of Bur- 
gundy, happened that night to be solacing himself with 
a starlight walk, and observed the lovers. He imme- 
diately gave the alarm ; and the old father, distracted 



with fury, accompanied him to the door of the pas- 
sage leading to the vaulted chamber, where a lamp 
shone faintly. — I have not attempted in this transla- 
tion to copy the manner of the old English ballads, 
which has been adopted by some of Burger's transla- 
tors ; because the German poetry has very little re- 
semblance to it. The mad song of Blandina bears 
strong marks of the corrupt taste of Germany, and 
perhaps it should have been omitted. 

The four odes from Gesner, which I have imitated, 
are printed amongst his Idylls. I have subjoined a 
Greek version of another by Mr. W. Frere. This is 
all the German poetry by Gesner, that I have seen ; 
and I believe he did not publish any more, which is 
much to be regretted. 

A volume, entitled Syr Launcelot, &c. (which I un- 
derstand has been published by a gentleman bearing 
the same name with myself) having been attributed by 
several persons to me, I beg leave to disclaim all know- 
ledge of that work, which I have not even seen. 

1803. W. HERBERT, 



INDEX. 

Lenardo and Blandina . . 1 

The morning song 12 

The sea voyage 14 

The waterfall 16 

The song of a Swiss, &c 19 

Sir Ebba 22 

From Evalds Fiskerne 34 

Speech of Lusignan 35 

From Catullus 37 

From Horace 39 

From Casimir Sarbievius 41 

From Andreas Naugerius . ..43 

From Beza 44 

From D. Manuel de Villegas 46 

Ode to Despair - 48 

L'aura soaye, &c. 51 






Anacreontics 53 

On the death of * * * 56 

Croyland Abbey 58 

Verses written in Somersetshire .-_.60 

The peace of Amiens 70 

The ruins of Rome 73 

Sonetto 77 

Ad amicum, &c 78 

From Ossian's Berrathon 82 

From Gesner by Mr. W. Frere 83 



E R R A T A. 



Page 14. line 11. for grean read green 

31. — — 15. after and insert a comma. 

6r. 24. for unshakled read unshackled. 



LENARDO AND BLANDINA. 



From the German by Burger, 



1801. 



I he old monarch listens, and pausing he hears 
The voice of the lovers just reaching his ears. 130 

With kisses soft-glowing each other they press, 
With love breathing words, and with tender caress. 

u My darling ! my darling ! what troubles thy mind ? 
To thee my fond bosom faith ever shall bind. 
Thy princess by day, but in night's secret shade 135 
Here may'st thou command me, thine own loving maid." 

" O beautiful princess! O wert thou to me 
The humblest of maids of the humblest degree, 
My bosom would meet thee with rapture and joy; 
But love is now blended with anxious alloy." 140 

* B 



u My sweetest! my sweetest! ne'er heed what they say! 
I am not thy princess by night ort>y day. 
For the lap of sweet love will I barter the throne, 
My father's rich empire, his sceptre, and crown. " 

u O fairest of fairest! O couldst thou but prove 145 
Thus tender for ever, thus constant in love ! 
Some prince, or rich baron, from far, or from near, 
Will woo thee, and win thee, and make thee forswear. 
The wind quickly rises, the water swells high ; 
But the winds pass away, and the waters flow by : 150 
And woman's fond love is like water and wind ; 
So it flows, so it passes away from the mind." 

" Let them woo me, and woo me, from far, and from 
near, 
No baron, no prince shall e'er make me forswear. 
My dearest! my dearest! so sure will I prove 155 
Thus tender for ever, thus constant in love. 
Like wind and like water my fondness you'll find; 
Fast flows by the water, fast passes the wind; 
Yet ne'er will all pass, nor will all flow away : 






So my love will flow ever, nor yet pass away." 160 

u O beautiful princess ! still sorely I fear; 
Sad fancies assail me, sad omens appear. 
The ties will dissolve, and the marriage-ring break, 
If we care not the blessing of heaven to seek. 
Whene'er the proud king shall our fondness have heard, 
My heart's blood will flow on the murderous sword ; 
And thou in some vault of the castle wilt groan, 
Disgraced, and un pitied, and perish alone." 

u Dear youth, Heaven tears not the bonds, that are 
wove' 
By faith, by true fondness, and mutual love. 170 

None will hear, and none see, thro' the stillness of night 
The joys, the soft transports, of tender delight. 
Come near me, loved hnsband, and give me one kiss, 
Dear pledge of sweet faith and of rapturous bliss." 

He came, and he kiss'd her cheek blushing with love, 
And the charms of her touch all his terrors remove. 
With kisses soft-glowing each other they press, 
With love breathing words, and with tender caress. 
B 2 



Enraged the king hears them their passion disclose- 
But bolts and strong locks did his passage oppose. 180 
He waits, and he watches with rage-swelling breast. 
As a dog, that has crouch'd at the den of a beast ; 
While the heart of the youth, which no pleasure can 

warm, 
Grows colder and sadder with fearful alarm. 

" Awake, my sweet princess ! I hear the cock crow ; 
Let me leave thee, before the bright morning shall glow!'* 

66 O sweetest! awhile in my bosom delay; 
'Tis but the first night-watch, and safely you stay." 

" Look out, my sweet princess ! the heavens grow 
light; 
Let me leave thee, ere round us the morning shine 
bright'." 190 

" O dearest! awhile in my bosom delay ; 
The light will not yet our fond raptures bewray.'' . 

" Ah listen, my princess ! Ah hear'st thou the sound 
Of swallows, that * warble their matins around?" 
* Germ. Wirbeln. 



M O my darling ! awhile in ray bosom delay ; 195 
Thou hear'st but the nightingale's love breathing lay." 

" Let me leave thee ! I hear the cock, loudly that 
crows ; 
The morning shines clear, and the morning air blows ; 
The swallows they warble. O let me depart ! 
O let me! alas ! what so troubles my heart?" 200 

u Adieu, my sweet husband ! nay, jet tarry here ! 
Ah me ! my sad bosom ! why heaves it with fear ? 
Here shew me thine heart ! O why throbs it so sore ? 
Dear heart, love me now, and to-morrow night more!" 

" Farewell, my sweet princess !" Then crept he away, 
And fled thro' the passage with fear and dismay; 
All trembling, and pale, as the dead, with affright, 
He stumbled along by the glimmering light. 
O then from their ambush they both rush'd amain, 
And, u Shalt thou for Burgundy's crown woo in vain !" 
Thus crying they smote the fair page to the ground; 

u There) hast thou the dowry ! there take it, thou 
hound!" 



K O merciful Christ, take my soul to thy rest !'* 

He said, and his dying head sunk on his breast. 
His soul from his bosom with fearful dismay 215 

Then fled, unappointed, unhousel'd, away. 
The proud Spanish prince, fiercely foaming with rage. 
With his blade rent the breast of the beautiful page. 

u Here shew me thine heart ! O why throbs it so sore ? 
Hast thou had love to-night ? wilt to-morrow have more? " 

Then tore he the quivering heart from his breast, 
And sated his fury with horrible jest. 

u Now, heart, then I have thee ! why throbs it so sore? 
Love now, thou fond heart, and to-morrow love more !" 
Meanwhile the fair princess wild terrors assail ; 226 
Strange dreams in her sleep and sad visions prevail; 
Of pearls stain'd with blood, garlands dropping with gore, 
Of horrible dances, and hellish uproar. 
From morning till evening all mournful and sad 
On the bed her fair limbs sick and weary she laid. 230 

" Come, midnight, and quiet my fearful alarms ! 
Come, midnight, and bring the dear youth to mine arms !" 



u And, when midnight had sounded the summons of 
love, 
And the tranquil stars gleam'd in the heavens above, 

u Ah me! my fond bosom ! why throbs it so sore ? 
Hark ! hark ! 'tis the sound of the small hidden door." 
Then enter'd a youth all in mourning array'd, 
With a torch, and a shroud, and approach'd to the maid ; 
And a bloody ring broken before her he threw, 
And, slowly returning, in silence withdrew. 240 

Then follow'd a youth all in purple array'd. 
And a gold urn he bore, which he placed by the maid ; 
A gold urn with handle, and lid, and the crest 
Of the king on its glittering cover impress'd. 
Then follow'd a youth all in silver array'd, 245 

And a letter he bore, which he gave to the maid ; 
To the maid all with horror and wonder inspired. 
And bow'd, as he went, and in silence retired. 
And, when the sad princess with terror all pale 
Had read in this letter the horrible tale, 250 

Dim, dim grew her sight, as if clouds gather'd round; 



She clench'd it with anguish, and sprung from the ground: 
And, soon with strain'd vigor collecting her might, 
From her high-throbbing bosom dismissing affright, 
Thus danced she, thus sung she, loud crying, " Hurrah! 
My bridegroom is there ; let the loud harpers play I 
Hurrah! hurrah ! dance ye with pleasure and love! 
The garland waves round me ! my feet nimbly move ! 
Now dance, all ye lords, and ye ladies so gay, 
And still, as ye dance, let the loud harpers play ! 260 
O see ye my true love in silver array'd, 
How noble his figure, how gracefully made? 
Do ye see on his bosom a purple star shine ? 
Hurrah ! all ye lords, and ye ladies so fine! 
Now dance ye with pleasure ! why thus turn away ? 265 
Why scorn him, ye lords, and ye ladies so gay? 
For he is the bridegroom, and I am the bride; 
And the angels of heaven the marriage-bond tied. 
Now dance yp ! n*ow dance ye ! Why thus turn away ? 
Why scorn him, ye lords, and ye ladies so gay? 270 
Away, ye proud rabble, away from mine eyes ! 



I hate all your titles, your pride I despise. 
The lord and the slave spring alike from the earth, 
And a noble heart graces the meanest in birth. 
My beautiful page bore a worthier mind, 275 

Than ever the breast of a noble enshrined. 
Play, play, the sweet music of pleasure and love! 
The garland waves round me ! my feet nimbly move ! 
Hurrah ! to the dance of the wedding ! hurrah ! 
My bridegroom is here, let the loud harpers play !" 280 
Thus sung she, still dancing ; thus danced, as she sung ; 
Till on her cold bosom the dew of death hung. 
The dew of death gather'd her pale cheeks around ; 
She panted, and fainting she fell to the ground. 
When the warm blood began to her heart to return, 285 
Her hands just reviving she stretch'd to the urn ; 
In her arms she embraced it, and on her lap held, 
And, raising its top, the dire sight she beheld. 
His heart seem'd against her still throbbing to beat, 
As if yet it felt pain, as if yet it felt heat. 290 

Then fast from her fair eyes all clouded with woe, 



10 

Like rain-drops thick streaming, the bitter tears flow. 

(i O anguish ! now seem'st thou like water and wind ; 
Swift flows by the water, swift passes the wind ; 
Yet ne'er will all pass, nor will all flow away ; 295 
So thou, bitter anguish, wilt ne'er pass away !" 

Then sunk she heart-broken with sad hollow eye 
In the cold sweat of death on the pavement to lie; 
And with painful convulsion fast, fast, to her breast, 
Fast, fast, to her fond heart, the bloody urn press'd. 300 

** Dear heart ! I lived for thee, and for thee shall die. 
O it bursts thro' my bosom, still throbbing so high ! 
It weighs, O it weighs, like a stone, in my breast! 
O merciful Christ, take my soul to thy rest!" 
Then closed she her lips, and then closed she her eyes ; 
Now the messengers hasten'd; the king heard their cries : 
Swift and loud thro' the castle their mournful shrieks 
sound, 

u The princess, the princess lies dead on the ground!" 
Distracted the monarch with fury was moved, 
So dearly his darling Blandina he loved; 310 



11 

He valued her more, than his sceptre and crown, 
And more, than the gold of his glittering throne. 
As he rush'd t' wards the traitor with agonised mind, 

" What reward dost thou hope for thy treason to find ? 
On Burgundy's ground shall thy heart's blood be spilt, 
To pay the just price of thy treacherous guilt. 
Her blood cries to heaven for vengeance on thee, 
And justice above speaks the fatal decree." 

His glittering dagger then quickly he drew, 
And with fury the vile Spanish reptile he slew. 320 

" O wretched Lenardo ! Blandina beloved! 
O merciful God, by my sorrow be moved ! 
My child, if my sad crimes may jet be forgiv'n, 
Accuse not thy sire at the high throne of heav'n!" 

Thus grieving too late did the monarch repent, 325 
And curse the foul deed, when his anger was spent. 
Of silver a sumptuous coffin was made, 
And the true lovers' bodies together were laid. 



MORNING SONG. 



From the German by Gesner. 



1792. 



Hail, orient Sun, auspicious light! 

Hail, new-born orb of day ! 
Lo, from behind the wood-crown'd height 

Breaks forth thy glittering ray. 

Behold it sparkle in the stream, 5 

And on the dew-drop shine ! 
O may sweet Joy's enlivening beam 

Mix his pure rays with thine ! 

The Zephyrs now with frolic wing 

Their rosy beds forsake ; 10 

And, shedding round the sweets of spring, 

Their drowsy comrades wake. 



13 

Soft Sleep and all his airy forms 

Fly from the dawning day : 
Like little loves O may their swarms 15 

On Chloe's bosom play ! 

Ye Zephyrs, haste ; from every fiow'r 

The sweetest perfumes take ; 
And bear them hence to Chloe's bow'r ?§ 

For soon the maid must wake ! 20 

And hovering round her fragrant bed 

In breezes call my fair ; 
Go, frolic round her graceful head, 

And scent her golden hair ! 

Then gently whisper in her ear, 25 

That ere the Sun gan rise, 
By the soft murmuring fountain here 

I breathed her name in sighs. 



SEA VOYAGE, 



From the German by Gesner. 



It flies, the ship, which bears my love 

To distant realms away ! 
May nought, but Cupids, round thee move ; 
No breeze, but Zephyr, play ! 

Soft, soft, ye billows, heave around ! 5 

Upon the rolling sea 
Still, as you mark the white waves bound, 

My true love, think on me! 

The birds here warble in the trees 

Their tenderest notes for you, 10 

Each grean leaf trembles to the breeze, 

Each reed, and shadowy bough. 



let thy swelling waves be laid I 

O hush thee, roaring sea! 
Ne'er trusted jet a sweeter maid 

Her angel form to thee ! 

Pure, as the Sun's reflected blaze 

Upon thy glassy flood ; 
Fair, as of old the lovely grace 

Of sea-born Venus stood ; 2 q 

When Gods, in sedgy caves that dwell, 

Beheld ^fith ravish'd eyes 

All naked on her frothy shell 

The perfect beauty rise; 

Forgot their sports, their nymphs forsook, 25 

Nor reck'd their jealous mood, 
But to the shore with eager look 

The queen of Ioyo pursued. 



WATERFALL. 



From the German by Gesner. 



1795. 

Is this the vale, whose shadowy wood 
Breathed o'er my bosom strange delight ? 
Is this the rock, whose sparkling flood 
Plunged lightly from the wood-crown'd height? 

Lo! where the foaming stream from high 5 

Dash'd on its mossy couch below, 
A frozen column meets my eye, 
Suspended from the beetling brow. 

How bare, how naked, frowns the glade I 

Where late in thick o'er-arching bow'rs 10 

Soft zephyrs thro' the foliage stray'd, 

And gently waved the scented flow'fs ; 



17 

Where late the glancing sunbeams play'd 

On the bright waves and mossy bed ; 

Or gleam'd along the checkcr'd s|jade, 15 

Which leafless now o'er-hangs my head. 

Soon, soon, sweet spring will warm the sky, 

And deck the groves with livelier hue; 

Awake each floweret's sparkling eye, 

And melt the frost with genial dew. 20 

O then receive me in your shade, 
Ye rocks, that crown the vallies deep, 
Ye woods, that deck this watery glade, 
And wave beneath the rocky steep ! 

No cares shall there my bosom pain; 25 

No fearful thoughts my heart alarm ; 
From hill, from grove, and flowery plain, 
Shall sweetly steal a soothing charm. 

• C 



18 

And wherefore envy those, that shine, 

And bask in fortune's transient beam I 30 

While with my flask of jovial wine 

I lay me by the rippling stream ; 

While sweet success may crown my lays 

Amid these cool delicious bow'rs ; 

And future ages learn to praise 35 

The pastime of my harmless hours. 






SONG OF A SWISS 

TO 

HIS MA IB IN ARMOUR, 



From the German by Gesner. 



1798. 

What beauteous vision charms my sight ! 

'Tis you, my darling maid; 
The polish'd helmet's trembling light 

Beams from your gentle head. 

A varied plume waves with the wind 5 

Upon your lovely brow; 
From which the auburn curls behind 

In simple ringlets flow. 

An iron breast-plate rudely feels 

Your heaving bosom rise. 10 

Ah cruel steel ! which thus conceals 

That bosom from my eyes. 
C 2 



20 

Yet charm'd I view the graceful knee 3 

The slender ankle too ; 
Which late the robe forbade to see, 

And fancy faintly drew. 



15 



At Eden's gates in arms array'd 
A blooming cherub stands ; 

Like him you shine, my lovely maid* 
And raise your guardian hands. 



20 



As his bright looks the. fiend oppose, 

But joy the good to see ; 
Your blue eye frights our haughty foes, 

Yet sweetly smiles on me. 



Harmless o'er you each hostile dart 
Shall lightly whistle by ; 

Alone to wound that tender heart 
Love's gentle arrows fly. 



25 



NOTE 

ON THE 

SONG OF A SWISS 

TO 

HIS MAID IN ARMOUR. 



tc When Zurich was besieged by the Emperor Al- 
bert, the wives and daughters of that state arrayed them- 
selves in breastplates, and mixed with the soldiers in 
complete armour. The emperor was alarmed at the 
numbers of their army, and retired from their terri- 
tory." Gesner. 

This seems to me to be a mistake. Zurich, as I 
reckon, was not besieged by the Emperor Albert, but 
by Albert Duke of Austria, assisted by the Emperor 
Charles the fourth, in the year 1354. He was unsuc- 
cessful in this siege, to which Gesner probably alludes. 
He was son to Albert the first, and (I believe) grand- 
father to Albert the second, but was never Emperor. 
For the account of his besieging Zurich, see Schmidt's 
History of Germany , vol. 4lh. 



SIR EBBA. 



^Translated from the Danish, 



1803. 



Sir Ebba let * bigg a bower so tall, 

As still each native knows, 
There sing the small thrush and the nightingale. 

Two damsels within it repose. 






Sir Ebba he must to Iceland go 5 

To bear his lord's behest; 
That bower, I ween, his daughters two 

Will find no place of rest. 

Sir Bonda and Sir Schinnild there 

Leagued with their mother came, 10 

To harm Sir Ebba's daughters fair, 

And work -them scath and shame. 

* Let bigg a bower, caused a bower to be constructed. 



23 

The younger brother trembled sore 

To work the damsel's shame. 
" Comes Sir Ebba in peace to his native shore, 15 

He venges his daughter's fame." 

Then pale and wan grew his mother's face, 

And savage wax'd her heart. 
u Thou bear'st not the soul of thy father's race, 

But play'st a coward's part. 20 

There's none within to check your might 

Beside two varlets small; 
And, were they both in iron dight, 

They must before ye fall." 

Early in the morning 25 

They whet the shining spear; 
At the close of evening 

Before the bower appear. 



24 

Under the lofty chamber's tier 
In rush'd the knights amain ; 

They ask no leave, they know no fear. 
But fast the chamber gain. 



30 



Up then awoke those ladies fair 
To guard their maiden pride ; 

Sir Bonda and Sir Schinnild there 
Lay by their snowy side. 



35 



The damsels wept full bitterly 
With many a maiden tear ; 

And pray'd them for their modesty 
To dread their father dear. 



40 



Up rose the knights, and went forth, ere 

Day lit the mountain's side j 
They thank'd for what they gain'd by fear, 

But dared not longer bide. 



25 

The youngar sister wailed soon, 45 

For she fell*first to shame ; 
Xi Let us sink with a stone in the billows down, 

And bury our blighted fame." 

The elder sister answer'd strait ; 

u Nay, gentle sister, nay, % 50 

Our sire from Iceland we'll await ; 

He'll venge us, if he may." 

It was the good Sir Ebba there, 

From Iceland home he came ; 
To meet him both his daughters fair 55 

All weeping went with shame. 

a Now welcome, welcome, father dear; 

So sore for you we cried ; 
Sir Bonda and Sir Schinnild here 

Have stain'd our maiden pride." 60 



26 

Sir Ebba's heart wax'd sore with woe, 

To hear their mournful plight ; 
And, " 111 to Iceland did I go; 

Now come the deadly fight !" 

" You must not for our ravish'd fame 65 

Bear helm and weapons keen; 
We will by craft avenge our shame, 

Though reft of honor sheen." 

It falls upon a Christmas night, 

To mass the people hies ; 70 

Betimes to whet their daggers bright 

Sir Ebba's daughters rise. 

Now shall Sir Ebba's daughters do 

A deed of scath, I ween; 
But they must not to the altar go 75 

Without their weapons keen. 

Sheen, bright. 



27 

Lady Metelill smiled, and a glowing hue 

Gleain'd under her rosy skin ; 
And, u Stand ye up, like ladies true ! 

Let the brides of my children in !" 80 

Sir Bonda and Sir Schinnild there 

To join the mass had sped ; 
And Trunda young, and Zenild fair 

Did fast behind them tread. 

North within the armory bright 85 

Young Trunda drew her blade ; 
South before the altar's light 

Sir Bonda 's fallen dead. 

South beside the altar's ledge 

Fair Zenild drew her knife ; 90 

North upon the grunsel edge 

Sir Schinnild lost his life. 

Gruxse/, threshold. 



28 

a Here stand we now as widows two, 
For neither is now a maid ; 

And, lady, take your children two 
To eat with salt and bread!" 



95 



Seven winters o'er that mournful place 

Sad interdiction hung ; 
Nor rite was done, nor holy mass, 

Nor funeral anthem sung. 



100 



On Helen's hill was a chapel built, 
And there went woman and man ; 

Till the Pope absolved the church from guilt, 
And loosed the fatal ban. 



NOTES 

ON 

THE BALLAD OF SIR EBB A. 



Xhe ballad of Sir Ebba is translated from an old Danish 
song printed in Suhms Nye Samlinger til de Danske 
Historie from a manuscript of Dr. Deichman's, who 
lived at the close of the seventeenth century, and tra- 
velled through Germany, Holland, and England; dur- 
ing which excursions he kept a literary journal, and 
continued it after his return to Denmark. The ballad 
is extracted from this journal with the following ac- 
count. " Mr. Peter Wiskinge communicated to me 
the following old song, which has never been printed, 
and is founded upon a story still preserved in the tra- 
ditions of the old people of Hoybye ; where the hill is 
shewn, upon which divine service was performed during 
seven years, while the church was under the Pope's 
ban." It is in metre and expression, as well as in the 
conduct of the story, exactly similar to our old ballads; 



30 

and on that account I have been desirous of trans- 
lating it as literally, as possible. After every stanza 
in the original a short verse is repeated, of which the 
English would be a So merrily they went." It has 
no meaning in its place, but was used as a burthen, 
like " Bonny St. Johnson stands upon Tay," and other 
lines of that sort. This ballad is named " An old song 
about Sir Ebba, who dwelt upon an island called Buur- 
6e in the parish of Hoybye in the lordship of Aad." 
The lordship of Aad is in Seeland, not very distant 
from Copenhagen. The names Ebba, Bonda, and 
Trunda, are spelt in the Danish with a final e, which 
is pronounced almost like a short a in English. 

V. 1. u Let bigg a bozcer so tall" In the original 
it stands, a Lod bygge saa hoje en buure." The simi- 
larity of' expression in the old Danish and old English 
is here remarkable. The verb let is frequently used as 
an auxiliary by the old English writers, as in the mort 
d' Arthur, c. 127. "Sir Galahalt the haute prince let 
cry, what knight somever he was, that smote down Sir 



31 

Palomides, should have his damosel to himself." c. 128. 
" Sir Lauftcelot let blow unto lodging." and c. 131. 
** Sir Galahalt the haute prince let blow unto lodging." 
To bigg is common for to build or construct; as in the 
minstrelsy of the Scottish border, v. 2. p. 7. u And 
he's bigged a hour on gude green wood." Buur or 
bur in Danish means a cage ; but I have ventured in 
this place to translate it by the word bower, of which 
I am persuaded this is the origin. Johnson gives a 
very unsatisfactory etymology of our word bower, or 
hour, deriving it from the boughs of trees, with which 
lie supposes it to be constructed, or from the verb to 
bow, or bend. The most frequent sense of the word 
in old writings is a chamber, or the apartment of a 
lady ; and meaning (as I have observed) in the Danish 
a cage to keep birds in, it seems to have had a meta- 
phorical allusion to the old word burd or byrd, which 
is: frequently used for a maid ; as for instance in the 
beautiful song of Helen of Kirkonell Lee, a When in 
my arms, burd Helen dropt, And died to succour me." 



32 

In this ballad the thrush and nightingale seem to be 
used metaphorically for the damsels. It appears in a 
note by Bussaeus to king Alfred's Periplus Outheri, that 
the species of whale, which is called by the Norwegians 
Huus-vhal, was formerly known by the name of Burh- 
valr. Olaus Magnus, lib. 21. c. 22 and 23. relates, that 
the inhabitants of the northern coasts made their huts 
of the skeletons of whales covered over with skins ; and 
this had induced me to imagine, that the name alluded 
to this custom : but in the notes to Speculum Regale, 
p. 127. it is stated to be derived from the particular 
structure of the whale itself. " Det navn Buurhval, 
som dem gives af det Buur eller Forraads-Kammer 
(cella cibaria), som er i deres hoved." i. e. u The 
name Buurhval, which is given them from the Buur 
or provision-chamber, which is in their head." I 
find, that Bur is used in the Anglo-saxon for a hut, 
or chamber ; as it is likewise in the Icelandic. Bur 
is also used in the Icelandic for a larder; and in 
compound fata-bur, a clothes-press ; so that it appears 



33 

to be the root of bureau, as well as bower. Bua, 
Island, and boe, Dan. is to inhabit, from whence Bu, 
bo, bol, boepoel, Isl. Swed. and Dan. for a habita- 
tion, and By, or bye, a town, whence our word 
bye-laws, Jomfrue-bur is still used in Danish for a 
maiden's chamber. 

V. 25. This change of metre is in the original also. 

V. 77. Lady Metelill seems to be the mother of the 
two knights, and she speaks here ironically. 

V. 85. a Armory ." In the original it is Vaaben- 
huus, or Arm-house. Anglo-saxon, Waepenhus. It 
must mean a part of the church, in which the public 
weapons were deposited. It is still the custom in 
Denmark to have an armory in most parishes, either 
in or attached to the church. I find in a Swedish book 
Wapenhus interpreted the porch of a church; and this 
is probably the meaning of Vaabenhuus in this ballad, 
the arms being suspended in the entrance of the church. 



THE DANISH. 



In Evalds Fiskerne, 



1803. 

From high the seaman's wearied sight 
Spies the green forests with delight, 

Which seem to promise rest and joy ; 
But woe is him, if hope deceives, 
If his fond eye too late perceives 5 

The breakers lurking to destroy. 

O sweetest pledge of love and pleasure, 
Enchanting smile ! thy depth I'll measure, 

Wary, as in the shallow tide ; 
Thdt, if beneath that garb of beauty 10 

The mind has shoals to wreck my duty, 

I strait may seek the waters wide. 



SPEECH 

OF 

LUSIGNAN. 



From the Zaire of Voltaire. 



1801. 

My God, I have fought sixty years for thy fame, 
Seen thy temple demolish'd, and perish thy name ; 
Twenty years my sad vows in a dungeon were pour'd, 
My tears for my children thy mercy implored; 
And, when thou restorest them, to double my woe, 5 
When I find a lost daughter, I find her thy foe. 
My child, dearest object in death's latest pains, » 

Think at least of the proud blood, which throbs in thy 

veins ! 
Of Christian kings 'tis the pure martyr'd blood ; 
'Tis the blood of true heroes, who fought for our God. 
O daughter still cherish'd! O knowest thou not 
Thine own bitter fate, and thy mother's dire lot ? 
Know'st thou, daughter, that, when she had given to light 
Thee, last and sad fruit of our nuptial delight, 
D 2 



36 

These eyes saw her bosom by murderers torn, 15 

By the hands of those ruffians, to whom thou art sworn ? 
Thy brothers, dear martyrs destroy 'd in my sight, 
With gory hands beckon from heaven's blest height. 
In this spot, where mine arm has oft vanquished his foes, 
Where the spirit of hhn in my feeble voice glows, 20 
For the world thy God died, and for thee, wretched maid, 
Whose tongue has blasphemed him, whose bosom be- 

tray'd. 
Mark this temple, these walls, by thy tyrants possess'd ; 
All speak of the God, whom thine ancestors bless'd. 
Turn thine eyes ; near this dome, thy fell master's abode, 
Near this impious dome, is the tomb of thy God, 
And the mount, to atone for the sins of mankind 
Where to traitors unholy his life he resign'd; 
Then arose again living. Thou canst not move round, 
Without tracing thy God in this thrice hallow'd ground ; 
Thou canst not remain, without cursing his word. 
Renouncing thy father, denying thy Lord. 



CATULLUS, 3. 



1792. 



With mournful voice and faultering tongue, 
With sweetly sympathetic moan, 
Begin^ ye loves, the funeral song ! 
The bird, my fair one's joy, is gone ! 

The bird, she nurs'd with anxious care, 5 

And fondly cherish'd night and day; 
For never from the gentle fair 
The little darling wish'd to stray. 

Now perch'd upon her graceful head 

With frolic wing and warbling throat; 10 

Now on her snowy bosom laid 

He sweetly tuned his artless note. 



38 

Cold death, alas ! has closed his eyes; 

(With tears bedew his funeral urn!) 

In those sad realms of night he lies, 15 

Whence mortal beauties ne'er return. 

Ye barbarous Fates, who love to crop 

The prime of youth and beauty's flow'r, 

Ah ! could ye not relenting stop 

The furies of your cruel pow'r ! 20 

Behold my fair one's swollen eyes 
With tears of never ceasing grief! 
Behold her bosom heave with sighs, 
To heart-felt pangs the faint relief! 

'Tis ye, that cause those tears to flow; 25 

: Tis ye, that cause that breast to heave; 
Your hands have oped the source of woe, 
And doom'd my lovely nymph to grieve. 



^ 



» 



HORACE, 

B. 1. ODE 22. 



1792. 

That happy man, whose virtuous heart 
Is free from guilt and conscious fear, 
Needs not the poison'd Moorish dart, 
Nor bow, nor sword, nor deadly spear ; 

Whether on shores, that Ganges laves, 5 

Or Syrtes' quivering sands among ; 
Or where Hydaspes' fabled waves 
In strange maeanders wind along. 

When free from care I dared to rove, 

And Lalage inspired my lay, 10 

A wolf within the Sabine grove 

Fled wild from his defenceless prey. 



40 

Such prodigy the Daimian bands 

In their drear haunts shall never trace ; 

Nor barren Libya's arid sands, 1 5 

Rough parent of the lion race. 

O place me, where no verdure smiles, 

No vernal zephyrs fan the ground, 

No varied scene the eye beguiles, 

Nor murmuring rivulets glide around ! 20 

Place me on Thracia's frozen lands, 
Uncheer'd by genial light of day ! 
Place me on Afric's burning sands, 
Scorch'd by the sun's inclement ray ! 

Love in my heart shall pain beguile, 25 

Sweet Lalage shall be my scng ; 
The gentle beauties of her smile, 
The gentle music of her tongue. 



! 



CASIMIR SARBIEVIUS, 

B. 2. ODE 2. 



1793. 



The snow, that crowns each mountain's brow, 

And whitens every spray, 
From each high rotik and loaded bough 

Will quickly melt away ; 

Soon, as the sun's reviving ray 5 

Shall warm the northern gale, 
And Zephyrs mild their wings display 

To wanton in the vale. 

When Time upon thine aged brow 

Shall shed the fatal show'r, 10 

The hoary frost, the chilling snow, 

Will melt from thence no more. 



42 

Quick summer flies, and autumn's suns, 

And winter's cheerless gloom ; 
In changeful turn each season runs, 15 

And spring breathes new perfume. 

Unchanged o'er us the tempest low'rs, 

Till death's last hour arrives ; 
Nor robe, nor garland deck'd witfllflow'rs, 

The bloom of life revives. 20 

What youth on us but once bestows, 

Age once shall snatch away ; 
But Fame can stop the fatal blows, 

And double life's short day. 

Long shall he live, whose bright career 25 

Deserv'd a patriot's sigh; 
All else flies with the fleeting year, 

But Fame can never die. 



FROM 

ANDREAS NAUGERIU'S. 



1795. 

Midst odorous flowers Hyella chanced to rove. 
And the pale lily with the rosebud wove ; 
Love slumbering in the leaves the virgin spied, 
And midst her flowers the tender elf she tied. 
Frighten'd he starts, and tries his feeble arm; 5 

His little pinions tremble with alarm. 
Soon, as he mark'd her heaving bosom rise, 
Her cheeks soft blushing and love-darting eyes, 
Arabia's perfumes in her golden hair 
Breathing ambrosia on the wanton air; 10 

ii Mother," (he cried) u thine empire I disown; 
" This lovely seat shall be my future throne." 



• 



B E Z A. 

1795. 

Zephyr, who feels't nor heat, nor cold, 

But lov'st the vernal ray ; 
Go, fan my fair one's locks of gold, 

And in each ringlet play ! 

Since every coast your wings explore, 5 

And through each climate rove ; 
Say, have you seen on any shore 

Aught fairer, than my love ? 

But, gentle Zephyr, tell, I pray, 

While thus you fan her hair, 10 

Will not some curl your wings delay, 

And bind your limbs of air ? 



45 

For those, which flowing ringlets seem, 

Are not soft locks of hair ; 
Ah! Cupid's net each ringlet deem, 15 

Some lover to ensnare ! 

For, as the spider's tender toil 

Enwraps the unwary bee, 
Alas ! so Love's successful guile 

Has spread the net for me. 20 

Thus, Zephyr, you will soon or late 

A tangled victim lie. 
But, O ye Gods ! if such his fate, 

How sweetly will he die ! 



THE SPANISH. 



By D. Manuel de Villegas, 



1804. 



constant guest of April fair, 
Sweet wanderer of the verdant grove, 
Zephyr, whose trembling pinions bear 
The spirit warm of gentle love ! 

If thou hast heard my mournful strain, 5 

The tuneful plaint of fond desire, 

Go, seek the nymph, who caused my pain. 

And fearless tell her, I expire! 

Ah ! once the maiden heard me mourn, 

Nor were my sorrows tuned in vain; 10 

Ah ! once she loved ; but now forlorn 

1 prove her wrath, her cold disdain. 



47 

Sweet Zephyr ! so each heavenly Pow'r, 

That rules the changeful gales of spring, 

Forbid the sleet or driving show'r 15 

To chill thy light and blithesome wing ! 

When big the storm with thunder low'rs 5 

And brightly gleam the summits high, 

Nor hail annoy thy humble bow'rs, 

Nor frightful tempest rattle nigh ! 20 



ODE 



DESPAIR. 



Irregular. 



1796. 

1. 

O thou, the fiend to Death allied, 

Who sit'st by weeping Sorrow's side, 

And bid'st unreal shapes arise 

Of monsterous port and giant size, 

Despair ! thy gorgon eye 5 

Can numb the heart with stern controul, 

And bind in ice the palsied soul. 

Where'er beneath some whistling shed 

Thy sullen form is laid, 

Scaring from orphan breasts the balm of sleep ; 10 

Or listening to the hollow sigh 

Of her, whose infants watch and weep, 

While round her side with slow consuming pang 

The barking dogs of famine hang. 



49 

2. 

Or cast upon some trackless shore, 15 

'Gainst which the barren billows roar, 
Thou turn'st thy leaden eyes in vain 
Across the immeasurable main ; 
And thro' the hoarsely murmuring spray 
Hear'st the sad sea-shriek die away : 20 

While thro' the howling storm in awful pride 

The baleful spirits of the thunder ride. 
3. 
Oft by the taper's mournful ray 

In arched vaults but dimly seen, 

Where cloister'd virgins vainly pray, 25 

Thou lov'st to mark the solemn scene; 

And haunt the gloomy cell, 

Where pale Regret and hopeless Memory dwell, 

And weeping Love; and by his side 

Unsated Lust and lingering Pride, 30 

Who left the world, they loved so well ; 

And Shame, that shuns the day. 
* E 



50 

4 

But fiercest on the blood-stain'd ground, 
Where crush'd Ambition stares around, 
And kindred Vice of coward soul, 35 

That hugs the knife with downcast eye, 
And dreads the blow, she dares not fly ; 
There sits thy dark terrific form 
With swollen balls, that wildly roll, 
And points the slowly gathering storm 40 

Big with the threats of fate. 
Around thy hideous phantoms wait ; 
And chiefly he, the giant pow'r, 
Whom lustful Sin to Murder bore, 
Fell Suicide, that stalks behind 45 

With ghastly smile and baneful breath, 
When hope has left the guilty mind, 
Sounding the dirge of death. 



" L'aura soave, e l'alba rugiaJosa, 
L'aqua, la terra al suo favor s'inchina ; 
Giovani vaghi, e donne innamorate 
Amano averne e seni e tempie ornate." 

Ariosto. 



1799. 



From all the sweets, that scent the vernal air, 
All, that on nature's gaudy lap repose, 
This humble flower the modest virgin chose, 
Pure, as herself, and delicately fair. 

Sweet emblem of the maid by all admired, 5 

Thee earliest of the year, some stream along, 
Where the lone blackbird trills his mellow song, 
My strains shall cherish, by thy sight inspired ! 

Thee when I view, my fancy still pourtrays 
That form, where nature's choicest beauties vie; 10 
The bashful look, that shuns the adoring eye; 
The untaught elegance, and simple grace : 
E 2 



52 

Still I behold that rosy smiling mouth; 

Those eyes with feeling exquisitely bright, 

With tender thoughts and delicate delight; \h 

That bosom glowing with the light of youth. 

Thrice happy flower ! on nature's simple bed, 
Where no refinement taints the breath- of spring, 
Thou lov'st the genial South-wind's dewy wing, 
The clear stream's freshness, and the willow's shade. 20 

There, shelter'd from the sun and vernal hail, 
In fearless peace thou rear'st thy modest head; 
Or on that fairest bosom gently laid, 
No cares molest thee, and no pangs assail. 

O ! coukl the troubled mind such calmness prove 25 
In peace and social ease completely bless'd, 
The smile of joy would lull each care to rest, 
And bind us to v the tranquil breast of love. 



ANACREONTICS. 



" AiStxxrov fAticilv, aXX* Jv t*j Quest 
To auQpoviTv u'\y%zv." 



Eurip. HlPPOL. 



1800. 
t 

K-Uthless Cupid, wouldst thou bind 

Fast and firm my roving mind, 

Search, and find a lovely maid. 

Fair, as nature e'er display'd I 

Let her unambitious be ; 5 

Frank, but free from levity ; 

Guarded so by modest look. 

That her thoughts e'en dread rebuke : 

What she saith unstudied, best; 

Simple, sweet, by nature bless'd. 10 

Let her bosom softly swelling 

Heave at mournful story's telling. 

Let her sometimes (thus most fair) 

Gentle melancholy wear; 



54 

Let her sometimes (fairer still) 15 

Chase it by the sweetest smile, 
That did ever beauty give 
To the loveliest forms, that live. 
Give her features not so fair, 

As are called regular ; 20 

But which might expression lend 
Lovelier to the fairest friend : 
Sparkling eyes, whose modest iire 
. Somewhat beams of fond desire ; 
Tresses soft, that simply flow %B 

O'er a neck of purest snow. 
Let her teeth be shining white ; 
Let her mouth be small and bright, 
Of such hue, that freshest rose 

By comparison w T ould lose. 30 

Let her feet, a tiny pair, 
Figure light and airy bear ; 
And, like visions of the bless'd, 
Scarce have touch'd the soil, they press'd. 



55 

Search the world, great God of love, 35 

Search the fairest crowds, that move; 

Find her such ? and add to this 

Meeting wishes^ meeting bliss ; 

Find her such, and thou shalt be 

j\f ine adored Deity. 40 



ON 

THE DEATH 

OF 

* * * AFTER A SHORT ILLNESS. 



1801. 

If manners mild with mirth combined, 
If truth adorns a female mind, 

And fond domestic love, 
Sweet maid, adieu! the farewell tear, 
Which friendship pays thine early bier, 5 

Shall every saint approve. 

For not the brightest fairest rays, 
Which beauty's slippery form displays, 

So reason can enthrall, 
As the chaste heart, devoid of pride, 10 

The smile to gentle joys allied, 
When harmless pleasures call. 



57 

Xhy name amidst the circle gay. 
Who in life's idle sunshine play, 

Shall soon be heard no more; 15 

But those, who loved thy gentle form, 
Whose hearts can prize each social charm. 

Will long thy loss deplore. 

Friendship, when many a winter's blast 

Shall o'er thy mouldering tomb have pass'd, 20 

Will still thine image view ; 
Still will the mind, which draws to light 
Each fleeting scene of past delight, 

The tender thought renew. 

Sweet maid, farewell ! thy smiling face 25 

The mournful friend no more shall trace 

Amidst the moving crowd; 
But oft the bitter hour recall, 
Which saw thee in life's springtime fall, 

And wrapp'd thy fatal shroud. u 30 



WRITTEN IN THE 

NEIGHBOURHOOD 

OF 

CROYLAND ABBEY. 



1801. 



O venerable pile ! whose shatter'd form 

From abject Cropland's melancholy site 

Looks proudly o'er this wide extended plain, 

Much of thine ancient grandeur and high name 

Old annals tell; much of fierce elfin shapes, 5 

And fiery forms, amid thy lonely fens 

Strange sojourners, who never dared invade 

Thy hallow'd precincts, but around them lurk'd 

To harm the holy pilgrim wandering nigh. 

So monks have fabled ; now forlorn thou see'st 10 

No mitred feasts, no pride of papal rites : 

Fallen are the domes, where once Ingulphus dwelt, 

Where pomp and learning reign'd. Thy sounding tow'r 

Calls but the simple cottager to pray, 



59 

Neglected now : yet not by me unbless'd ; 1 3 

For here unknown beneath a humble roof 

Oft Jiave I changed the tumult of the town, 

The toil of study, and the city's smoke, 

For healthy exercise and private ease; 

Forgetful of the busy cares, that lie 20 

Thick scatter'd on the restless path of life, 

O holy Solitude ! thy charming cup, 
Too deeply quafiPd, unfits the social mind 
For public intercourse and useful toils ; 
But sometimes woo"d thou dost correct our thoughts, 25 
Soften the rude asperity of pride, 
Wake each pure feeling, and exalt the heart. 
On thee, mild Power, (wherever fate shall guide 
Thro' the wild storms of faction, which have rent 
The solid base of Europe, and now shake 30 

My trembling country) sometimes will I call ; 
Whether on rushy moor, or shady bank, 
In active exercise, or tranquil rest, 
Still cherish'd, still chaste partner of my thoughts! 



WRITTEN IN 



SOMERSETSHIRE. 



1801. 

vJ how I love the woody steeps to climb, 

Which overhang thy solitary stream, 

Clear-flowing Barle ! or tread the broken stones, 

Round which thy never-ceasing waters foam. 

And ever and anon rough-tumbling roar 5 

Beneath the oaken shade. Hail, beauteous hills ! 

On whose steep sides the coding ringdove sits, 

Or diving thro' the deep expanse of air 

Flaps his delighted wings, and towers again ; 

And thou, romantic spot, where close beneath 10 

Mountsey's proud brow and Anstey's stately moor 

Danesbrook and Barle their noisy streams unite : 

Upon your sides abrupt the pausing eye 

Dwells charmed, as it views each sparkling spring 

Shine thro' the gloomy woods, and trickle down. 15 



61 

Delightful dales ! your peaceful course along 
Joyous I stray, nor heedless, nor unmoved, 
With other thoughts, than in the circle gay. 
O innocence ! O peace ! your simple forms, 
Fair images on nature's lap impress'd, 20 

More sweetly shew, than all the trick of art, 
Or gorgeous splendor of barbaric pomp. 
Had I but liberty, and power to roam 
Unshakled by refinement, free from care, 
Midst Americ's lakes, or Australasian wilds, 25 

Then would I sing of'many a savage race, ' 
Who dwell in forests huge and boundless woods; 
Of many a spirit, by their fancy form'd, 
Vv^ho stir the whirlpool, or the tempest guide, 
Invisible; and that* enormous bird, 30 

Which, (as Chepewyans tell) ere earth there was, 
O'er the wide waste of trackless ocean ranged, 
With eyes, that lightening glanced, and thunderous wings ; 
At whose enchanting touch from torpor roused 
The vast earth started from its oozy bed, 35 

* See Mackenzie's voyage in North America. 



62 

And all the goodly shapesj which nature wears, 

From the deep bosom of the water rose. 

Such tales, tho' wild, by many a tribe believed, 

Suit well the fictions of sweet poesy : 

Delightful fictions of the roving mind, 40 

And so delightful only, as they bear 

The simple stamp of nature ; worthless else, 

Or only valued by distemper'd minds, 

Which, pamper'd by the vicious hand of art, 

Know not to prize the unpolluted shapes 45 

Of beauty, loveliest, when least adorn'd. 

Me other thoughts and other cares detain 

Bound to my native land ; whose Muses dwell 

In Cam's soft breast, or Eton's fostering arms, 

Whom to majestic Thames fair Isis bore, 50 

Pledge of their married loves. O parent dear, 

From whom I drew the milk of classic lore, 

And early learn'd to tune the willing lyre 

To other strains, than meet the savage ear I 

What meeter service can thy Muses find, 55 



63 

( While Irreligiori holds her proud career, 

Shaking the thrones of kings and bulwarks old 

Of social rule) than chuse some sacred theme, 

And from the hallow'd springs of Palestine 

Draw numbers chaste and clear ? or, if the source 60 

Of those delightful streams be whilom dried 

By Milton's holy thirst, attune the lyre 

To sing their country's greater poorer days, 

And tell, how generous Temple's equal mind 

Attemper'd Chatham's pride; while Europe saw 65 

The kindred patriots wield the bolt of war 

Invincible, and spread thro' Britain's sons 

The virtues, which inform'd their mighty souls ? 

Nor bootless to such task the love, I bear 

To those Aonian shades, where Lucan cull'd 70 

Fresh garlands to adorn the historic page. 

Proud youth, whose liberal song was loved of old, 

E'en in that vicious age, when haughty Rome 

Gasp'd at the foot of a licentious lord ! 

While Cato's name shall fill the listening ear, 75 



64 

And Freedom's voice be cherish'd, still shall live 

Thy manly thoughts, and from the glowing mind 

Draw praise, above thy verse, which bears the taint 

Of that polluted time ! For not to all, 

Not to the bards of falling Rome was giv'n 80 

To sound that vocal shell, whence Milton drew 

Numbers sonorous, fraught w r ith science deep; 

Such as majestic Greece had wondering heard, 

Nor Freedom's proudest sons disdain'd to own. 

Nymphs of Permessus ! ye, who chastely guard 85 

The bowers of poesy, and guide the streams 

Of witching music; pardon, if uncall'd *- 

I tread with foot adventurous the bank 

Of pale Pircne, or the flowery marge 

Of fabled Helicon ! O holy bards, SO 

Whose spirits hovering yet endear the vales 

Of Temple evergreen, and leafy shades 

Of wood-crown'd Academns ; or the grot, 

Where Dorian Arethuse first heard the strains 

Of rural minstrelsy ! your voices pure 95 



65 

Still sound in fancy's ear, and oft by night 

l$reathe from aerial lyres the liquid notes 

And high-toned melody of sacred song. 

Such charm is yet in your primaeval haunts 

By that still gloom, in which the enrapturd mind 100 

Contemplates the stupendous vault of heav'n, 

And feels the limitary thought expand 

With thousand vast conceptions, undefined, 

And stretching far amid the maze of worlds 

Beyond the azure deep. At the calm hour 105 

Of silent midnight, when the tranquil moon 

Glides slowly o'er the spangled brow of heav'n, 

Some sacred charm of melancholy strains 

Steals soft (or seems to steal) upon the breeze, 

Quiring from each bright orb to fancy's ear. 1 10 

Oft have I listen'd to the sighing gale. 

That heaves the rustling boughs, and, gazing round 

With pleasing horror on the peaceful gloom, 

Thought, that, while nature slept in still repose, 

Some viewless spirit hover'd on the breeze 115 

:• f 



66 

Revisiting the scenes of former joy, 

To muse on one, it loved ; and breathe around 

O'er each lone vale, green bank, or mossy stream', 

The sweet enchantment of immortal sounds. 

Nor seldom, when the heart is sad, the soul 120 

To such illusions wild its spirit lends. 

For sorrow is to harmony allied 

By some mysterious tie : the saddest bird 

Sings sweetest, and its soul-delighting plaint 

Bears melody, which not the blithesome lark 125 

Caroling can ever reach ; the maid forlorn, 

Love-crazed, and blighted in the bud of youth, 

Will lay her by the secret gurgling stream, 

That slowly winds beneath some spreading shade, 

Where mournful fancies dwell, and all the day 130 

Warble the sorrowfullest ditties sweet ; 

Nor would she change her melancholy lay > 

And pillow strew'd with many a mystic flow'r, 

For pomp, or wealth, or pleasure's joyous dream* 

The mournful music of her sorrow spreads 135 



67 

A strange infectious charm: the very winds. 
That kiss her lovely form, more softly blow : 
And, as they curl around her virgin limbs, 
Waving with innocent breath her tresses loose, 
Seem fearful, lest their fond and sportive touch 1 40 
Should scare her gentle grief. For Zephyrs have 
Their modulations mild, which sweetly lull 
The melancholy soul: there's not a breeze, 
That fans the purple year, and spreads around 
Thousand soft odors from its gentle breath, 145 

But leaves some sad rememberance, as it goes, 
Some painful memory of past delights, 
Pleasing, tho' painful. To the feeling heart 
All nature breathes harmonious. Are there not 
In the sweet gales, that wake the dewy morn, 150 
In the soft night-breeze, and the murmuring stream, 
Ay even in the thunderous hurricane, 
Sounds exquisite, which touch some consonant nerve ; 
And thrill the ear? There is a mystery 
In every form, in every varied sound: 155 

F 2 



68 

For art doth but arrest the fieetiiig shapes 

And combinations of sweet harmony * 

And they, who read aright fair nature's book. 

Will find a charm in every desert spot 

To solace life. O sacred harmony, 160 

Sweet gift of heaven to soothe the troubled soul, 

And sweeter still to sing the giver's praise; 

In every age by every w orship call'd, 

Christian, or Heathen, to adorn the pomp 

Of holy festival ! And fitly so 165 

His pagan priests their mystic anthems raise 

In Eastern climes to his immortal name, 

Mightiest, and first, and best, by all adored, 

Gaudma, or Codom and Somona cali'd, 

Or Foe, or Boodh, one great eternal God* 17© 

Who, when the World was made, one giant foot 

On stony* Meeaday, on Ceylon one, 

Firm fixed, did bestride the peopled earth, 

Viewing his fair creation. To such strains 

Holiest, enchanted nature seems to bend 175 

■■ ■ ■ — •— > »» . 

* See Symes's Embassy to Ara. 




69 

In solemn acquiescence ; all, that breathes, 

That moves, that lives, and feels the genial sun, 

Is held by witchery of sacred song 

Listening its maker's praise ; sweet tribute paid 

To the Omnipotent, and then best paid, 180 

When virtuous sorrow holds each meaner thought 

In calm subjection. Such persuasion is 

E'en in idolatrous strains ; raised by the voice 

Of zealous priests to the creative Pow'r, 

Whose word hath hung the infinite of heav'a 185 

With countless worlds and vast; whose anger sends 

Destruction forth amongst his guilty sons, 

Tempest, and war, and famine's blighting scath, 

And wither'd- shapes of pestilential death 

In yellow autumn, when the hollow winds 190 

Howl sickly, loaded with the wrath of heav'n. 



THE 

PEACE OF AMIENS. 



After the manner of " The flow' rs of the forest." 

See Minst. Scot. Bo&d. v, 2. 



1802. 



Ocr arms have thunder'd, 

And Europe has wonder'd 
At trophies of valor by Britain display 'd ; 

But April expiring 

Has heard the guns firing, 5 

To sound the sad fall of her glory and trade. 

The pow'r of France growing, 

All thrones to her bowing. 
Our wealth to republican losels a prey, 

Our trophies ail faded, 10 

Though proudly paraded, 
The tackle, which held us ; is all cut away, 



71 

With flags gaily flying, 

Her big canvass plying, 
O'er the dark lap of ocean the stout vessel sail'd; 15 

With sound timbers swimming, 

Her course safely trimming, 
Tho' long by the tempest and billows assail'd. 

But her pilot all fearful, 

With eyes sad and tearful, 20 

Has struck on the shallows avoiding the tide ; 

And the waters quick rising, 

Her glories despising, 
Will loose all her timbers, and break o'er her side. 

I've heard the loud thunder, 2 5 

Which made Europe wonder, 
When our navy rode free o'er the boisterous seas ; 

I've heard the war sounding, 

The wide world confounding, 
But sweeter, than treacherous carol of peace. 30 



Each ancient alliance 

With feeble compliance 
Abandoned a prey to a renegade's sway. 

The pow'r of France growing, 

All thrones to her bowing, 
The tackle, which held us. is ail cut awav. 



THE 

RUINS OF ROME; 

BEING TME- 

FIRST PART OF AN ODE BY GUIDl 



From the Italian. 



1804. 
1. 

O bless'd Arcadia,*, learning's hallow'd fane! 

Where, snelter'd from the storms of dubious fate ? 

On Rome's proud hills we find a safe retreat; 

And, from this tranquil solitary scat, 

The glorious form behold 5 

Of that illustrious city old. 

Lo, where, beneath the scourge of years,. 

In firm undaunted state 

Her martial head she boldly rears; 

Her wonderous piles, which yet unharm'd remain, 10 

* L'Academia degli Arcadi, a society at Rome,- of which Guidi 
was admitted a member in 1691. 



74 

Still rise with proud disdain ; 

And warm beneath the ashes of her fame 

Still glows the vigor of the Latin name, j 

% ' 
Proud and unconquerable still is Rome, 
Though stretch'd on earth her limbs gigantic lie. 15 
The fell barbarian war 
Pour'd from the fatal northern star, 
And the destructive shock 
Of angry Time, she seems to mock; 
All-glorious are the ruins of her land, 20 

And her great monuments eternal stand. 
And we, upon the honor'd plain, 
Where flows old Tiber's matchless stream, 
Behold his swollen waters rolling by 
With conscious pride of ruling still supreme 25 

O'er all the mighty billows of the main. 

3. 
There stood the stately bridge. 
Where groan'd the wheels of the triumphal car 



75 

Laden with spoils of Asiatic war ! 

There hung the standards, once in battle borne, 30 

And beaks from hostile vessels torn ! 

Mark the superb Tarpcian rock, 

Whose hardy bosom nurs'd the sons of fame; 

Where many a chained king, 

To glut with servile shame 35 

Imperial Rome's almighty will 

From Parthia captive or from Egypt led, 

Has heard the edict fulmine o'er his head ! 

4. 
Behold the formidable shade 

Of that stupendous pile, by Titus rear'd J 40 

How lofty, how immensely grand, 
Its venerable ruins stand ! 
When first the wonderous walls appear'd, 
The wrathful hands of Time, 

Who saw the monsterous mass his threats oppose, 45 
From many a distant clime 
To strike the fatal blows 



7$ 

Barbarian steel and Gothic fury led. 

Yet see, where still it rears its awful head ! 

The huge remains, which seem to scorn their foes, 50 

Resentful yet of those injurious bands, 

Stand proudly menacing the hostile lands. 
5, 

There towers the hill from great Quirinus named ; 

Where thoughtful sate those proud Patricians old, 

And in their mighty souls ambitious framed 55 

Sad chains and servile woes 

To tame their stubborn foes, 

The hardy Dacian and the Briton bold. 

Now is the hallow 'd land 

Ruled by a milder hand ; 60 

Celestial cares unruffled there abide, 

And golden laws and dovelike peace reside. 



S O N'ETTO. 



* c Hermosura infeliz, siempre nacida 
Tara mortal estrago de : a vida." 

La Raquei,,, 



O luci angeliche, amoros'e, e'bclle, 
JDa che suldelicato e dolcc viso 
Lampeggia placido e soave il riso, 
Duci siete d' amor, beate stelic ! 

Oiine bellezzc dolci si, ma felle ! 5 

Oime '1 bel sguardo, clie ha ogni cor conquiso! 
Lc mille grazie care in van ravviso, 
Vaghe scmpre, mutabili, e novelle ! 

Perfide duci ! lusinghiere scorte ! 
Ovunque voi lanciate i chiari lampi, 1G 

Par che baleni amor, ed arda gioia : 

Ma dietro siede infausta e dura sorte; 
Quanto piu avvien che il bel splendor avvampi, 
Tanto ci seguira piu grave noja. 



AD 

AMI CUM, 

IN 

kORVEGUM PR0FECTURU8. 



" Quje causa remotas 
Quserendi sedeis, frigidaque arva, ylris ? 
Libertas, nequidquam alibi qusesita : sub Arcto ; 
Hospitibus tandem tuta reperta novis." 

Laurentius Norrmannus ap, Rudbeck. in Lap . Musi. 



J802. 

O ego siquando Americas ferar hospes ad oras? 
Qua Canada? juxta nemora atque ignota locorum 
Volvitur immani fiuviorum maxiinus alveo ; 
Aut ? Australasias fines atque arva Demani 
Omine collustrans dextro, prope litu's amoenum 5 

Longinqui maris in gremio nova moenia condam ! 
Ipsum ultra oceanum magnoque sonantia fluctu 
Litora Sumatra penetrare et saxa Timori 
Mens avet. O quondam nostros ea terra, ncpotes 
Libertate sua excipiat, longinqua Selandi 10 

Quae juga prospiciens Australi tunditur unda ! 



79 

IIic elim (si fata sinant, aut anxia mentis 
Ansa meae fatum superent) veneranda futuri 
Ad vada* Dalripylae regni fundamina ponam. 
Sint modoj qui mecum rudis ad cimabula vitae 15 

Ire velint, vastosque oculis lustrare recessus, 
Quo nunc perculsus studio inter devia rupum 
Scandiae ad horribilis nemorosas deferar Alpes. 
O juga pinifera, et fractis reboantia saxis 
Fiumina, quam vellem vestri requiescere longum 20 
Ruris in hospitio, gelida inter lustra ferarum ! 
Libera vos auditis enirn, neque saevus honores 
Sprevit adhuc vestros pede Gallicus induperator ; 
Qui nunc per magnas Angloruin turpiter urbes 
Percellit populum, et major de pace triumphat. 25 

O patria, o animo semper carissima nostro^ 
Si tibi mens eadem, et virtus antiqua maneret ? 
Nulla tibi me subriperent discrimina fati ; 
Sed potiiis te suspicerem, potiusque cadenti 
Hsererem, et penitus nullo divellerer sevo ! 30 

Quod si dura pari fatum est, perdique Britannum 
* Dalrymple river in Van Dieman's land. 



so 

lies statuit Pater omnipotens, saltern inde sinebat 

Magna mente ariimisque tamen procumbcre victos. 

Occubuisse parum est, socii ! inallem omnia raptet, 

Omnia victor agat ferreo pede barbarus hostis, 35 

Quam Britonum, tot post secura* secula laudis, 

Proculcari aniraos turpique senescere somno. 

O Thamesine pater iluviorum^ et nobilis Humbcn 

Et virgo Sabrina Lo'crini regia prcles, 

Tamaraque, et liquido delabens Usa fluentc, 4 ( J 

Nonne foret satins regna ultra Sauromatarum 

Ircutscam latere indigetes, gelidaeqne Tobo'lsc* 

..E tenia nive constringi, quam talia tristes 

Vidisse, et penitus raptum flevisse decorcm, 

Olhn armis quaes itum, arinis et sanguine vestrum? 45 

Sed (quoniam, necdum confecto corpore regni, 

In medio victrix languet certamineyirtus, 

Et, quibus imperium pelagi magnique patcbant 

Ditia regna maris custodi turbida fiuctu, 

Nunc patimur segnes positisque Iabascimus armis) 50 

Ponemus patrios alio sub sole penates. 

Care comes, qui raecura in primo limine vita? 






81 

Dulcia Pierii libasti pocula fontis, 
Iisdem odii's, uno patriae commotus amore, 
Te socium studeo mihi quondam in sede Demani; 55 
Cui conclusa mari natalibus oestuat arvis 
Magna geraens anima, et luctu languescit inermi. 
Nam neque, quern patriae quondam victrieiS imago 
Juvit, et antiquo regum sub sanguine virtus, 
Te servile jugum prostrato admittere coilo 60 

Ipsius ante pedes reor aut sub consule segnsm 
' Malle pari, quam regna ultra spamantia ponti 
Virtutemque rudem proavorum et jura fovere 
Libera. Non ego, si cent-.im mihi tecta paterent 
Aurea, magnificis circum lucentia gazis, 65 

Tale quid appeterem, mentemque inducere possem, 
TJt paterer rapla de libertate triumphum ; 
Sed potius silvarum umbras et sola ferarum 
Antra colens, moestam solarer carmine mentem, 
Ad vada Dalripyls, vel litora rauca Selandi, 70 

Incultasque rudi proscinclens voinere glebas 
Messe nova flavisque docerem fulgere culm is.. 
* G 



OSSIAN'S BERRATHON. 

1801. 

AxXtmq rzSvatTiv, o<?oi nors (pdazov ctpirot 
Epptvcci, yT ISvvcivto piXciwcu) >tyf V7rdhvf;sci. 

SlcrTTsg h alyiuKa xhvtpvTcq xv'purcc novm, 
"tlo-irig Sdaxix (pvXha, Moexzimq fizSv&vha - 

TviteSdef avspot; $\ rd p\v (pi^u, ctXhoi & %fap 
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3 H %af»? dpfipoerlv) 'Pvvuoq «/>/>' d>Atmv ; 

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Xfvcreov r* IxhsXaSev wccrepuv ^oyi,ov' 4/<$£ yhuiaq 
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EIh Mopue'vy ravvCpvtoa), vptiy diXKvv; 
s Antynh xopxt, dnpoio T£ *9* dvdcra-et. , c 



GESNER, 

By W. FRERE, Esq. 



EiV'Ep^Ta. 



1797. 

A*, a*, v Epft>j, ^fos oaTpov, «$&* b'ixcoi; atari fl"p«i7ft> 

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?«^>?pa ^' £$» *op«, wj Etafos apxri ir^dra. 



THE END, 



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